


Scars: Part II

by shinlluminous



Series: Seventeen One-Shots Collection [6]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Gay, M/M, Romance, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 19:48:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7328059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinlluminous/pseuds/shinlluminous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Minghao gives up with himself, but Mingyu's not going anywhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scars: Part II

Minghao doesn’t like to think of himself as a pure, untainted boy. He really doesn’t (despite his boyfriend’s claim that he is Minghao never liked agree to it). But the Chinese boy couldn’t deny that he learned a lesson about himself last night that he most absolutely hates drinking and cannot tolerate the aftermath of being drunk. He doesn’t want to open his eyes; they sting and hurt in the most excruciating manner but he can barely fathom the thoughts that was clouding his thoughts like a herd of cumolonimbus about to bring a storm of rain and thunder in the hollow insides of his head. His mental state was delicate, and right now, he just wants this migraine he was getting to spare him.

He wants to fall back asleep but he doesn’t remember anything; what if he was actually in an unidentified place miles away from home? I mean, what exactly happened? He could slowly begin to make out the soft structure of whatever it is his head had been lying on and his hands grab onto the soft fabric on some kind of springy platform he finds his body on. He’s on a bed, but whose?

He starts to breathe propely, his forehead tightening. There is a faint air of smoke and anti-bacterial soap all at one, and also cold air that seems to freshen the spot he was in. Wait, he knows this smell. Minghao slowly reaches his hands out, but the bed is empty. Finally, after another two minutes of laying in silence, praying for the headache to go away, he finally opens his eyes. He makes out a closed door, and some clothes behind them. He recognizes a long black coat. ‘M-Mong,’ he croaks some air rather than mutter his boyfriend’s name.

He heaves a sigh, his eyes tearing from the sting and he shuts them again. _Where is he?_ He wonders how he got there but decides it doesn’t matter and that he’d rather be there than anywhere else. But where _was_ his boyfriend? Was he alone? He can’t be alone right? Mingyu wouldn’t leave him alone like that so where was he? It felt a little colder lying under his blankets and Minghao knew it wasn’t because the windows beside the bed was open. It was bright daytime and Minghao couldn’t feel the light of day beaming upon him. His eyes _hurt_ from the brightness of the view .

He just wants Mingyu to come in and hold him.

He starts whining in muffled voices into Mingyu’s pillow. His migraine worsened and he stretches to find his phone, noticing the slight weight on his arm and when he turns his attention to it, he finds his arm bandaged neatly. He raises his head. The confusion stresses him even more and he his disturbed by a strange surge of anxiety that cries out the need to see Mingyu. ‘Mong,’ he mutters again

Before he pulls himself off the bed, stumbling helplessly onto the floor, causing a loud thump from his head that hits the wooden surface hard.  His fists are trembling and he hears the door creak open.  ‘Minghao,’ he hears Mingyu’s voice call in slight alarm. Mingyu rushes to his distressed boyfriend and helps him back on the bed, while Minghao clutches his hands to his skull, still recovering from the fall.  ‘Babe, are you okay?’ he rubs Minghao’s head where it hurts and the latter struggles to sit properly without feeling like he was about to wobble and fall lying down on Mingyu’s bed.

Fortunately Mingyu was there to hold him up. His hands finds Minghao’s face and he feels his forehead, his neck, checking if he had caught a temperature or not.  The coldness of Mingyu’s fresh out-of-the-shower hand causes a tingle to run in Minghao’s body. ‘Where did you go?’ Minghao demanded in a weak complaining tone, despite seeing Mingyu in only a towel and his hair still damp.

‘I’m sorry,’ he pressed his lips against Minghao’s forehead. ‘I went to take a shower,’ he caressed the boy’s cheeks. ‘How are you feeling?’

Minghao shook his head, landing his head on Mingyu’s bare neck. Mingyu runs a thumb across Minghao’s ears, kissing him on the edge of his cheeks. It’s the only place where Minghao actually has fat and he ruffles the younger’s hair ends just above his nape. ‘I’m gonna get dressed and we’re gonna get you something to eat, aight?’ he said in a  low volume in his ears and Minghao grunted as she shook his head, wrappin his arms around Mingyu’s bare abdomen.

Mingyu smirked in amusement and pulled back from Minghao, looking at him sincerely in the eyes. ‘I’ll be quick,’ he assured him and Minghao lied back on the bed on his side, closing his eyes briefly as Mingyu hastily found a t-shirt to wear and shorts.

‘Are you done?’ Minghao croaked.

‘Yeah,’ he hears his boyfriend whisper. ‘I’ll wake you up after I finish cooking okay?’

Minghao jolts up. ‘I wanna come with,’ he says and Mingyu consentingly pulls him up and invites him to the main space, not exactly the cosiest of living rooms with its cramped space and the washed out paint on the walls, but Mingyu tries his best to keep this small space the tidiest and most inviting he can, even if Minghao’s the only one who is enthusiastic about coming back every time (then again it wasn’t like Mingyu had that other many people to invite over casually).

Minghao sits quietly at the living space on a worn out couch, positioning himself so that he could watch Mingyu in the kitchen. He studies his body frame from behind, his wide shoulders and bulky biceps, his eyes still sleepy but stomach too sick to let him rest. Hot steam lightly fills the space of the aparment and Minghao is slightly mesmerized by the good smell that comes out along with it. He can’t wait to eat.

The tanned boy shows up later carrying a small pot of hangover soup he had learned from skillfully from his mother, and thoughtfully revised over for the sake of his boyfriend. Mingyu loyally sits beside Minghao as he watches the Chinese boy eat in slow pace, slowly blowing the hot soup, wtaching his cheeks move as he chews and swallows.

After several mouthfuls, Minghao feels irritated inside his stomach, and abruptly stands up, running to the bathroom and Mingyu watches, making the correct assumptions in his head before he slowly gets up. There’s a sickening sound of Minghao purging into the toilet bowl and Mingyu calmly comes up behind him, rubbing Minghao’s back, which startles him a little. He feels his face heat up from the embarassment of vomitting in front of his boyfriend, but Mingyu reassures him. ‘It’s okay, just let it out.’ He said as he lowers behind him.

Once Minghao feels he’s forced out everything inside he slams the lid shut and flushes the toilet, rinsing his mouth and his paling face. He’s breathing heavily and Mingyu prepares a mug of hot water for him to drink down.

‘Do you have candy?’ Minghao asks, the bitter foul taste in his mouth sickening him further. Mingyu takes out a small metal container of mints from inside his schoolbag and gives it to Minghao, who slumps down on the couch and tries to regain his composure, nibbling on the mints he gave him.

‘I’m sorry,’ Mingyu says, burdened by the guilt that he had carelessly left something so toxic (for Minghao) at least so easy in the open.

‘It’s not you,’ Minghao replies. ‘Shouldn’t have tried. . .’ he groaned, leaning his back. Mingyu looks down.

‘Have you always been-‘ he picks up Minghao’s bandaged arm. Minghao’s not so sure what he wants to answer. Sure, he had stopped cutting some time ago. But lately the urge to start again had acted up and unfortunately enough for him he had gotten drunk and stoned enough to lose mental control of himself.

‘I’ve stopped,’ Minghao said. ‘Did I cut these when I was drunk?’ he asked. Mingyu nodded. ‘I’m sorry,’ he shut his eyes.

‘Is something going on at home?’ Mingyu wanted to know. He wanted to help, at least. Minghao denies his question, telling him it’s just pressure from studies but that he really was restraining himself.  ‘Minghao,’ he takes his hand. ‘If you need me, don’t keep quiet, okay?’

Minghao turns his head, brows tightened, but Mingyu gently tilts his face to look at him, sensing his reluctance, his reflex of rejecting Mingyu’s sincere aid out of sheer fear and insecurity. ‘No, listen to me.’ Mingyu sees his watery eyes. ‘I can’t go on feeling happy if I know you might be doing this to yourself when I could help.’ Mingyu cups his small face. ‘Don’t fight this alone, please. I know I won’t be much of a help, but I love you. Let me try, okay? Besides therapy and whatever, I want to be a part of it because I wouldn’t forgive myself if I wasn’t.’

Minghao clasps his lips, and nods, tears coming down his face. He feels a wall breaking; a wall he had kept up so long he was too used to it, blocking out everyone including his own boyfriend. Mingyu pulls him into his embrace. ‘Stop hiding from me,’ Mingyu breathes into his ear. ‘I can’t do my best if you don’t let me try,’

The boy cries into Mingyu’s chest. It hurts, being alone for so long, and he doesn’t even realize it until someone actually wants to be with him physically and emotionally.

Maybe there is someone worth healing his scars for.


End file.
